


Separation Scars

by viciouswishes



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-01
Updated: 2003-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciouswishes/pseuds/viciouswishes





	Separation Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regala_electra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regala_electra/gifts).



"One day you're born," she said. "Then you're Chosen. And finally you're a Vampire Slayer. Originally the Slayer was unique, but now there are many of us. You know how sports coaches talk about teamwork? Well now there are many of us; we are a team. Get to work," she demanded.

The Slayers started exercising. Ponytails bounced, thighs stretched, and old t-shirts filled with sweat. Hands on bars and legs on treadmills. Faith smiled - the daily workout. Giles had left her in charge; she couldn't believe it. Everyday it seemed that he was delegating her more responsibility. She felt like an adult.

The warrant for her arrest had gone away. She wasn't sure how or why. And she didn't ask.

"Hello Faith," Robin said as he walked toward her, kissing her check. "I missed you."

"How was Romania?" she asked, hugging him. Part of her new adult life - a steady boyfriend.

"It would've been better if you had been there," he answered. "Two new Slayers. I'm pretty tired, but I wanted to give you a quick hello first. So I'll see you at home."

She watched him leave. Home. That was a new word. Home with Robin. To have someone to wrap her arms around at night. Someone to bitch about a bad day to. Everything at home was five by five and fucking dull.

To control her 'dark side' as Andrew had put it, she had to see a therapist twice a week. The therapist was nice, but she was all Ph.D. Faith thought Robin knew the dark; she thought that she'd have someone who understood. But his darkness extended about as much as tying someone's hands to the bedpost equaled hardcore bondage. Things just didn't add up.

Her fists met with the punching bag. Meetings, training, meetings, seeing Robin, meetings, training. She sighed and punched harder. The side of the bag split. "Fuck," she said and went to the closet to get a broom.

The Slayers gathered around, looking at the mess. Faith started sweeping, but they stayed back. "Okay girls." Giles broke the crowd. He often came by to add his training expertise and to keep up with the Slayers. "Faith, why don't you take the rest of the day off? Spend some time with Robin," he said. "Laura and Roberta, why don't you two finish cleaning this up? Just think of it as leniency for the practical joke on Andrew."

Faith nodded thanks to him as she left the room. She took off her clothing and stepped under the water in the locker room. It was huge as they were always adding new Slayers. But empty while the other Slayers continued training. Hot water steamed down her back. She stood under it for a long time.

Stepping out, she dried herself off with a towel. Her cell phone buzzed from under her day clothes. The man on the other end needed to talk with her. She couldn't believe it, especially after Andrew's report on Angel's new position. He wanted to meet her in a pub. Alone. She wasn't to tell Giles. That was explicit. He always treated her like that. Line by line, order by order.

She pulled on her tight fitting jeans. He'd be waiting; she'd best not be late or he'd leave. She thought about calling Robin. He'd want to tell Giles - to arm her. To have Slayers watching her back. She didn't need them. She had her own strength which filled her marrow long before Willow's spell.

Her jacket slipped on as she left the building. London chilled its people in the winter. Made her miss L.A. But anything was better than jail, even being immobile in a large parka. People pushed passed her; one girl didn't make a difference to them, even if she had helped save the world.

The pub was dark and smoky. A few regulars perched on their stools - still a workday. She spotted him in a far booth - waiting. He had always been early. She looked at the time on her cell phone. She wasn't late.

"Hello Faith," he said as she approached the booth.

"Wesley," she nodded, sitting down across from him. "What do you want?" she asked as the beer arrived.

"Getting right to the point." He downed a pill as he took a sip.

"Well, I wasn't ever one for chitchat. Plus you're working - running Wolfram and Hart. They're the evil empire, Wes," she stated. She recalled the first time she'd been approached by them. Lilah and her diamonds and the limo.

"Things have changed," he said. She could see a marking on his throat, under the large scar. How did he get that scar? She couldn't remember ever hearing the story. Probably just some mundane demon.

"But while I've changed for the better; you've changed for the worst." _Better. What is better. A house with Robin. A steady job._ The cold beer felt good going down her throat.

Wesley stared at her. "I think Angel's done something. Probably with the help of Wolfram and Hart," he said. "Cordelia brought up a name. Connor."

"Don't know anyone by that name. Maybe it was some accountant down in finances." She paused. "I'm sorry about Cordelia." Willow had received a call from Fred, informing her of Cordelia's death.

"Thank you," he whispered. A moment passed before he composed himself. Faith could tell that he was obviously on a mission. "Have you met the seers in Devon? The ones at Wolfram and Hart work for Angel."

"Psychics are going a little far, don't you think? I mean, you still haven't explained this to me, but that's my vibe. Plus, the coven couldn't let you near them. You're too grey. They almost didn't let me come there with Giles," she said. "And why did you ask me anyway? Willow's a powerful witch. If something mystical happened, she'd know."

"But you'll help me. The others will never try to understand." Wesley sighed. He looked like he was going to break if she didn't give him a chance. Another chance.

She laughed. "I still don't understand what you want. Me to take you to Devon? Ask Willow? Kill some demons? Because really, I'm much better at the latter."

"Sorry. I don't expect you to agree to anything until you know the whole story." He relayed the tale of Cordelia's astroprojection and her insistent inquires about Connor. Also of the comment Angel had made a month or so ago. "Obviously something's going on. I made a few queries at Wolfram and Hart that went in circles. Which makes me believe that they have something to do with it."

"Give me some time and the address of where you're staying," Faith offered. "I'll see what I can do. But right now, I have to go home. Robin - my boyfriend - came home today."

She saw a puzzled look fill Wesley's face as she said 'boyfriend.' He wrote the information on a napkin. "Thank you," he said, once again.

"No prob," she said, grabbing the napkin and leaving. She didn't turn back. Last time, they'd fought side by side, she'd watched how he'd changed. In Sunnydale, rules were crisp as his suits. Though in L.A., she saw him do what was needed. Smashing the rules.

She shook her head as snow began to fall. Everything seemed like a haze when she thought of L.A., of capturing Angelus. Maybe Wesley was right. The haze she blamed on changes. Changes in her position from jailed rogue Slayer to leader.

Bodies in the tubes raised the temperature. When did she become the one ignoring the bum on the stairwell instead of being the bum. Not that she ever begged for money. The car creaked as it started up. Robin would be surprised to see her home early. The cold air rushed through the tunnel as she stepped off at her stop.

Snow came down even harder than before. The sky was a soupy grey; the sun disappeared, and though it was mid-afternoon, darkness had descended. Her hands shook with cold as she unlocked their flat. The television was loudly blaring, and no doubt, Robin was asleep on the couch. Faith hung up her coat and sat down on the couch next to him.

"Hey," Robin said, opening his eyes. "Still a little tired from traveling. You're home early."

"Romania isn't that far away," she tried to tease him. "Giles suggested that I take the rest of the day off. Especially since you're here." She moved to straddle him and peeled off her shirt. Her lips met his in a crushing kiss.

"Faith," he held her back, "we need to talk. I..."

"Screw talking," she silenced him. "Let's have some fun first. I've had a long day and need some comfort. And I think that you do too." Her hips grinded into his lap, and she could feel his growing erection.

A lick on the side of the neck. He fondled her breasts. He unbuttoned his pants and thrust between her hands. Her clothing was removed. No conversation passed, and he was inside of her. They moved together fast. Her on his lap. Up and down - pleasure. He came, and they stopped.

"You done?" he asked, moving out of her.

"Yes," she lied. She got off his lap and pulled on her pants. "Have you ever wondered if reality had been changed? If we'd still be here - together - if that change had happened?"

"What's been spinning in your head?" Robin asked. "Of course, reality changes. Willow's spell did that. Our choices everyday mold reality." He put on his shirt and walked to the kitchen. "How does stir-fry sound for dinner?"

"Wonderful," she smiled. "I don't mean our choices. More like someone going back and altering history. Like erasing some memories or a person from our memories."

"And why would anyone want to do that?" he asked. It was clear by his tone. He thought that she'd been watching "City on the Edge of Forever" with Xander and Andrew again.

She took out a knife and started chopping carrots. "The question is why. And I think don't think that it has anything to do with huge conspiracies to takeout world leaders. It's on a personal level." He frowned at her. "Don't give me that look," she snapped. "The guys and I haven't been watching _Star Trek_ again." She tossed the carrots into the wok and started on the broccoli. "I have a meeting tonight."

"Council?" Robin asked. "Shouldn't I be there?" He stirred the vegetables into the cooked chicken.

"A new contact," she said. "I got it." She set the table as he finished the food, and they sat down to eat.

She watched the clock as they ate dinner. The big elephant sitting in the room took up all the conversation. Food taken in silence.

Robin cleared his throat, wiping the sides of his mouth with a napkin. "What's going on?" he asked. "We barely talk anymore. And you've been doing that cryptic talking again. I get plenty of that with the Slayers."

"I'm not a little child," Faith seethed. "I have a lot on my mind." She pushed the empty plate away from her. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Faith," he sounded frustrated. "What do you want? You've been pushing me away. Not just tonight, but before I left. It's been building for a while."

She sighed, loudly. "We're not cut out for this." She stood up and walked to the kitchen. Her plates slammed down into the sink. She knew that he'd been following.

Robin watched as she went into the bedroom. She came out with a duffle bag over her shoulder. "So you're leaving me," he said. "I guess that I was expecting this. Maybe I thought that we still had a little bit of time."

"Goodbye Robin," she said, as the door closed behind her. She took the napkin out of her jacket pocket and hailed a taxi.

As she gave the driver the instructions, she slumped back in the seat. Buildings swirled passed her; she tugged her jacket closer around her body. How'd she get the only cab in London without heat?

The brakes squealed, and she exited, handing the driver plenty of cash. The hotel was more ritzy than she'd expected, especially since Wesley had come undercover. Or at least, she'd thought he did.

She slipped passed the concierge desk. No doubt, this was the sort of place that escorted you and gave a call to the guest. He knew she was coming. But did he expect her and the duffle bag? Never before had she needed his help. Would he fail her again?

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. Wesley opened it. "Faith," he said, letting her in.

"Swanky place, Wes." Faith set her bag down on a chair. "Did you figure out how we're going to proceed?"

"You've decided," he said. They sat across from each other on matching couches.

Faith ran her fingers across the symbols that marked the table. "Yes," she answered. "These for protection?" She tapped on the marks and slouched into the couch.

"They render remote observation useless." He rolled up his sleeve and showed off one mark on his arm. "Remember Lindsey, the former Wolfram and Hart lawyer? He wanted to take revenge on Angel and used these symbols to protect himself from the eyes of the Senior Partners and also security cameras. Angel thinks I'm on vacation."

"Nice," she said. "When do I get mine? I mean if we're going to be working together, we wouldn't want anyone to see me."

"Of course," he replied. He set up a small alter on the table. "Are you ready?"

She knew that he wasn't really asking. Her presence here could damage his search. She watched him open a thick book and speak in a language that she didn't recognize. He always knew the correct pronunciations, but she never thought that he had the power to channel all that magic through his body. She had already learned that this wasn't the naïve Watcher in Sunnydale; his drive continued to enthrall her. Mystify her.

A swirl of dust enclosed her. She could barely breathe. Thank god for Slayer strength. The dust settled on her body, biting her like a million mosquitoes. She bit her tongue; blood filled her mouth. It ended suddenly, her head falling back, body slamming back. "That was a trip," Faith snorted. "Look at you with the mojo."

Wesley seemed tense. He moved to clean up the pile of supplies. "It was necessary." Faith could tell that she wasn't that only one who got a buzz from the magic.

Faith undid the top of her blouse looking for the new marks. "These are pretty tight," she said. She saw him looking at her, watching the black bra stick out. "You know," she said, "I'll need a place to stay. But I figure that you already accounted for that."

"Yes," he said, stretching himself out on the length of the couch. His pupils looked dilated. Fuck, he was high. Or whatever the magic equivalent was. "But it's more than that isn't it? This is more than a place for you to stay out of sight?"

"Yeah," Faith admitted. She crossed her fingers hoping that he would forget what she was going to admit by tomorrow. "I left him, Wes. I walked out."

"I see," he said. His eyes were closing, and he probably hadn't shaved in a week. Why did the stubble appeal to her?

"It was a long time coming," she sighed. _Many times in the making._ "I'll be okay. Thanks for the concern." She was harsh and sarcastic; she didn't understand why he even cared. They had a job to do. A mystery to solve that didn't have anything to do with her personal problems. That she couldn't handle an adult relationship.

"I'm sorry, Faith," he said, ignoring her rudeness. Hadn't he dealt with her badly? "Listen, I'm tired, and you look like you could use some sleep. You want the bed or the couch?" he offered.

"Looks like the bed's big enough for two," Faith answered.

"Faith, if you think that I'm going to..." Wesley protested. He rose to walk toward the bed and started to take off his clothing down to his boxers.

Faith guffawed. "What no sympathy fuck? No I'm-sorry-Faith-that-you-can't-have-a-real-relationship pity orgasm? Such a straight laced Watcher still."

"I'm no Watcher," he growled, climbing into bed. "Stay on your own side."

Rejection was not something she could deal with. She'd never been rejected. Sure Robin had insulted her, but they fucked. She sat for a moment on the couch remembering. Nope, not one man - and a few women - that she could remember ever rejected her. Okay, Angel did. But that didn't count.

Quietly, she climbed into bed - only in her panties and tank top. She was going to stay on her fucking side of the bed. This wasn't too bad was it? She'd walked out on Robin, got mojoed up, and then rejected by Wesley. Maybe the insomnia would leave.

******

Faith woke up with the sunlight streaming in on her face. She yawned, then remembered where she was and what had happened the night before. She rolled over to see if Wesley was up. He was gone. She sat up in bed and looked around the room. He must have gone for breakfast. The clock read 10 a.m. He was probably going to scold her for sleeping in. Grabbing her bag, she headed for the bathroom.

When she appeared fully dressed and showered, Wesley was sitting at table going over some of his notes. "Morning," she said, settling herself down across from him. He'd brought her breakfast - cold cereal and coffee. How very American of him.

"Did you have a pleasant sleep?" he asked. She knew that he was really concentrated on researching, but she appreciated that he took the time to ask her.

"Yes," she said, her mouth full of cereal. "And thanks for bringing me breakfast."

"You're welcome." He turned the page of the thick text. "I've scheduled us a flight to L.A. It leaves in two hours. I suggest that you call in sick." He paused. "We need to get closer to the source if we are going to find out what Angel did."

"But what about the coven?" Faith asked.

"You were right," Wesley admitted. "They won't help us. Plus there are many seeing demons in L.A. We did have resources before Wolfram and Hart." He adjusted his glasses on his face. It had been a while since she'd seen him wear them.

"So I guess I should call Giles." Faith removed her cell phone from her bag. She talked in a hushed tone to Giles. She didn't give a location, and in fact, he didn't ask her many questions. Just requested some time off. Easy as skipping stones on a pond.

Wesley made himself rather loud while packing things up. Making sure that she wouldn't think that he was eaves-dropping.

"Robin told him," Faith relayed. "He gave me a week. A week to solve your puzzle."

He took off his glasses. "We need to get a move on it," he said. The airport would no doubt be bustling with travelers. And they didn't want to get tangled up with physical security.

Faith carried their bags to the taxi. Wesley sat silently next to her as they traveled through London to Heathrow. Their marks protected them from modern security systems, just like Wesley assured. She kept her knife in her bust, and she knew he had at least one gun under his jacket.

Wesley introduced them as a newly married couple to the nosey old lady next to them on the plane. Faith smirked and made up a fanciful tale of their marriage. A beautiful wedding in a large hall surrounded by family and friends. She'd rather get married on the beach - raw and not in England. Hopping trains and backs of pickups were more her style, plus the company of chickens was sometimes better. Faith closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Wesley touched her arm to wake her up. "What the fuck?" Faith said, turning around with her fist ready. "Sorry, Wes. Gut reaction."

"We're here," he said. The passengers were already moving about grabbing their things out of the overhead bins. A gust of warm air filled the cabin as the air conditioning was replaced with vents.

"Home sweet California," she stretched her arms and followed the people out. Funny that she'd think of this place as home. Home was not where her heart was; but where you heart had been captured. The rocky road of redemption. She followed Wesley out of the airport and through the streets. Their hotel must not be far.

He led her up the stairs of a dirty apartment building; it looked like something she'd lived in during her childhood. The lights flickered and the hall narrowed as they continued. He stopped when they reached the room at the end of the hall. "Welcome to base camp," he said.

The place wasn't as bad as the hallway. It wasn't a five star hotel, but it would do. He turned on a lamp, and they set down their stuff. "Where'd you get this place?" she asked.

"It was the home of a nest of Shlick demons," Wesley answered. "Nasty creatures who eat children. Had a hard time cleaning them out." There was no blood on the walls, and every corner had been scrubbed. "The first contact we'll need to find is Mistress Meerna. She's a dimensional traveler, and if Angel tore a hole in this dimension, she'd know," he said. "However, she can be troubling to track down."

"Troubling?" Faith asked, rummaging through his refrigerator. Pretty empty with only a few provisions. She found an apple and started eating it.

"Travelers through dimensions move in and out of our reality," Wesley explained. "When Lorne went to find her, it took him all day. So I suggest we get started now."

They moved out. Faith watched as Wesley muttered a few words in Latin at the door: wards. Wesley hailed a cab as soon as they were away from the building; Faith was just along for the ride. "West Hollywood," Wesley told the driver and then read an address off a small sheet of paper.

Traffic in LA. was worse than in London. Faith couldn't remember ever being stalled in traffic more than in L.A. She leaned against the window, absorbing the sunlight. Dark industrial buildings lined with barbwire fences slowly gave way to wide boulevards dotted with expensive foreign cars, clothing boutiques, and palm trees. Pedestrians in designer business suits tumbled out of buildings for lunch breaks. The cab turned up a hill full of huge houses surrounded by fences and manicured lawns. This would have been the life. Faith laughed; she couldn't see herself dressed in a prep uniform and showing her report card to her daddy.

Wesley handed the driver money. "Now follow my lead," he instructed.

"This Mistress Meerna's got some dough," Faith commented. Wesley turned toward her and frowned. "Okay. Don't give me that look. I got it. Behave or Meerna will kick my ass to another dimension."

Wesley knocked on the door, and they were let in by a butler. The house looked even larger on the inside. The halls glistened as the lightly colored tile flooring shined in the sunlight. Paintings hung along the walls, and vases of flowers sat on every small table. "Thank you," Wesley told the butler as they were seated in a small drawing room.

"Welcome," Mistress Meerna said from behind them. "You seek my help. And you're in need." She dressed head to toe in rich green velvet, and her blue hair was done up in a fancy bun.

"Yes," Wesley answered, turning around to face her. "I need to talk with you about Angel. It's rather urgent and important."

Faith watched as Mistress Meerna disappeared. She'd seen a lot of things in her life, but this was wacky. What kind of woman disappears in the middle of a polite conversation? Not like she hadn't desired that power before. "Wow," she said as Mistress Meerna appeared in front of them.

"What is it you seek," she asked again, ignoring Faith's astonishment. She walked toward a desk, picking up a small Palm Pilot.

"I believe that Angel, the first vampire with a soul, has been changing reality," Wesley said. He minced words and details before she vanished. "He's erased a person named Connor. Possibly around last summer. We were wondering if you knew anyone by that name and had sensed change."

"Change," she said, mulling the word over in her mouth and pushing buttons on her Palm Pilot. "Like fireflies." She vanished only to reappear by walking through the entrance again. "Connor," she began, "yes. There are references to him in other dimensions, but not this one. A baby not born of human parents. A baby prophesized not to be born. When we forget things, they remember." She paused. "He's associated with a missing goddess and the Destroyer. This is what the grains of dimensions read." She stood before them - luminous.

"Can you tell if this change, this disappearance of the one named Connor started at Wolfram and Hart?" Wesley pressed Mistress Meerna, who had given him more knowledge than all his research. Faith watched him yearn for more.

"I don't know anything else," she insisted. "Why do you continue to nag me? I've told you more than you knew before."

"Mistress Meerna," Faith interrupted, "my friend means no insult. He'd just concerned. You understand?"

Mistress Meerna stood quietly looking like she had some place else to be than here. Leaving was something she did naturally.

"Thank you," Wesley said. He hoped that would sooth her bent feelings.

She smiled and then held her hands up like a fairy. Moving them across the air, Mistress Meerna left them alone in her drawing room.

The butler came in to show them out. "That was a trip," Faith said. "What's the next step boss?" she asked as they climbed into the waiting cab.

"Scrolls," he said. Faith groaned loudly; she still hated hitting the books. It was still easier to punch someone for information that read tiny demon print. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I'm done with the research part."

"So now you have the pieces of the puzzle?" Faith asked. Wesley needed closure, and she was here for ride. She enjoyed working with him and was a little sad that he might have found the answer. Training Slayers didn't excite her the way this did.

"The Niazian Scrolls talk about this child. They also mention the vampire with a soul," Wesley said. "How it relates to Angel, I don't know. I have a feeling that we'll need to confront him on this." Wesley closed his eyes; he hadn't slept on the plane. "Of course they could've been talking about Spike."

"Spike?" Faith asked. "But he's in a hole in Sunnydale." Faith glanced out the window. "So we're headed to Wolfram and Hart?" she snorted. "You need a nap, Wes. Trust me. You're only human."

"Spike's alive," he mumbled before nodding off. Wesley fell asleep in the cab. He was out. Faith instructed the driver to take them back to Wesley's makeshift apartment. He slept the entire way; no doubt he was going to be pissed when he woke to find them not at Wolfram and Hart.

The driver stopped in front of the rundown building. She dug some money out of Wesley's wallet to pay the driver and carried Wesley out. Vaguely, she recalled when he carried her - high on drugs and almost dead - through the Hyperion. Another one of the blurry memories.

"Wesley," Faith said, waking him up. She'd sat him on the floor. Despite his need for sleep, he also needed to undo the ward. "You have to let us in."

He grumbled as his eyes opened. "Forcing me to rest," he said, yawning. He hushed her before she said anything. He muttered some words and the barrier released.

Faith watched as he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. She plopped herself down on the couch and flicked on the television. He'd been up how many days? She pulled a small vile of uppers out of her pocket. He'd been taking them since before he came to London, but she'd snagged them when he wasn't looking. She wasn't going to put up with a groggy, sleepless man who's bound to make a fatal mistake with the power they deal with. When he woke up, it would be time to visit Angel.

Faith silently fumed about Andrew's lack of information concerning Spike's resurrection. All the channels showed the same dumb sitcoms. She could understand if Andrew wanted to protect B, but not to report to Giles? Andrew was such a lap dog. Then again, it made her feel less concerned about shirking her responsibilities to the Council.

She checked her voicemail; Robin hadn't called. No adult life concerns. Only taking care of Wesley - making his mission come through. Laying his worries to rest. She thumbed through Wesley's date book. Apparently, he was supposed to meet someone with a spell in 10 minutes.

There was a loud knock on the door. _Must be early_ , she thought. She opened the door to see a still-smoldering vampire wrapped in a blanket. "Spike?" Faith asked.

Spike removed the blanket. She stared at him - still adjusting to the idea that he was alive. Still having her mind boggled, especially since he stood right in front of her. "Faith," he said, "I didn't know Wes recruited you too. Where is he?" Spike pushed passed her and entered the apartment. He'd obviously been here before.

"He's napping," Faith said, stopping Spike from going into the bedroom. "He hasn't slept in days." She picked the pill container off the television and shook it. "You get these for him?" she asked. "Because I don't want a deranged man leading me into danger."

"Why are you here?" Spike inquired. He lit up a cigarette and joined her on the couch. "You're not going to whisk him off to Council Headquarters with a Slayer army, are you?"

"Are you a spy for Wolfram and Hart?" she quizzed. "Why did Andrew lie in his report?" She stole a cigarette and started smoking. It was rare, but the level of comfort and weirdness around Spike always made her want to smoke. She needed something in her mouth. "I'm here on my own. Non-Council business. In fact, they think I'm still in London." She gave and now it was his turn.

"I don't work with them. Doing freelance hero stuff for the good people of L.A.," he answered.

She started to laugh. "You're kidding, right?" she asked, laughing some more. "You've become Angel. Helping the helpless."

Spike shot her a dirty look. "Except I don't betray my friends," he said. Glancing toward the bedroom door, he sighed. "I suppose that I can entrust the contents for the spell with you?"

"Don't tell me," Faith said, "another protection spell?" The brown paper bag seemed to be filled to the brim with supplies. "Must be something big."

"Not protection." He exhaled smoke and stood up. "It's for memory." Spike tapped the side of his head. "Or more specifically to recall changes in reality. Going to get Angel good with it." He smirked.

Faith rolled her eyes. "I can't believe that you're still doing this macho shit with him. Neither of you are dating B." Faith stretched out on the couch, covering the vacant spot left by Spike.

"Not about Buffy," Spike said, closing the door behind him as he left.

And again, she was alone with her thoughts. It was nice to know that Wesley wasn't as alone as she'd thought. But of course, he lived up to that dissolution; she never would have helped him if he hadn't been on his last dime and desperate. And possibly Robin and her fight had contributed.

She slumped down further on the couch and tried to absorb the television shows. She didn't recognize half the programs on primetime. Not anymore. And this place didn't have cable.

"Faith," Wesley said, standing over her and shaking her shoulders.

Faith squinted as she looked up. "What time is it?" she asked. He pointed at the clock. "Shit. I only closed my eyes for a second, I swear."

"I'd say that we both overslept," he glowered at her. She saw that the pills were again in his possession. "I wouldn't worry about me." The subject of the pills had been axed from further discussion, even though she did still worry about him. He started unloaded the bag of magic supplies. "This should make a potion for gaining the knowledge of who this Connor was."

"As long as it's not so gross that I'm going yack it up," Faith said. She stretched her arms above her head and let out a huge yawn.

"You don't ingest it," Wesley explained. "It's placed in the center of the forehead - where the third eye would be located. It's a powerful spell, used almost solely by demons working in record collections. It's never been tried on humans."

"And let me guess," she said, "we're the guinea pigs?" She snorted and went into the bathroom to shower.

When she came out wrapped in a towel, Wesley sat at the dining room table mashing assorted herbs and other things of mystical quality in a bowl. "Refreshed?" he asked, barely looking at her.

"Yeah." She opened her bag with dry clothing and dropped her towel. She had never had any issues concerning being naked. Plus Wesley was Wesley; she'd always thought that he liked Angel. Clean pants felt great against her skin.

"Not very modest, are we?" Wesley said. She knew that despite being Wesley, he was still a person and would take a peek.

Faith pulled a t-shirt over her head. "Never was one for clothing," she answered. "Did I ever tell you about the time I saved that preacher from vampires while sleeping out under the stars?" There was nothing like teasing her ex-Watcher. She could see a rising blush on his face.

"I believe I remember hearing Cordelia complain about that story." She stood right behind him, breathing down his neck. He turned around. "Faith," he said.

"Yes, Wes." She smiled at him. He looked absolutely gorgeous with a hardness that only preparing for a large spell could have brought. Why hadn't she seen the darkness in him before? Sure there'd been glimpses, but nothing was like this.

He cleared his throat. "It's ready," he announced. Wesley put his finger in the bowl and took out a bit of the mixture and placed it on Faith's forehead and likewise did for himself. They moved to the floor and sat cross-legged from each other. Faith followed his every move. "Those at the gates, we beseech you," he said. "We request the knowledge that has been taken from us by one named Angel, the vampire with a soul and CEO of Wolfram and Hart." He paused and exhaled loudly. "A soul named Connor is gone. Tell us. Give us the knowledge." Wesley looked pale, but he kept going, and this time, he changed languages - something that she didn't recognize.

She felt dizzy, and she could tell that Wesley was about to pass out. The magics flowed in and out him and consumed the room. He fell over. _Got to get help_ , she repeated to herself over and over. Her Slayer strength kept her going longer than Wesley, but she wasn't going to be conscious for long.

Grabbing Wesley's cellphone, she dialed the emergency number. "Angel," she said as the other voice on the line answered. "Help." Her vision grew fuzzier, and the phone slipped from her hand. She tried to call out to Angel as her body slid to the floor.

*******

_'The kid has a name. So, vampire slayers. I was told about them. How come you're always girls? You haven't seen what I can do. I'm pretty clear about what you need. All right. I get it. I messed up.'_

"Faith," a voice said as she opened her eyes. "She's awake," he shouted. Robin. He held onto her hand and smiled.

"What happened?" she asked. Then she remembered Connor, Angel's son. Wesley's spell worked. She felt tubes coming out of her nose and the itch of a needle in her arm. "How long?"

"Two days," Robin answered. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as Angel called."

She looked toward the foot of the bed. Angel stood there, watching her. "We need to know what you and Wesley were doing," Angel said. "We found the spell, but I would like to know what it was for."

"Nice to see you too, Angel," Faith answered. "You did this to him. If you weren't such a dick this wouldn't have happened." She coughed; her mouth felt like dry Artic air. Robin handed her a cup of water to sip from. "Connor. We were searching for information about him, and we found it."

Angel's face drained of any emotion. "So you know," he said.

"And so does Wes." She sipped more water. "I can't believe you did this. That you fucked with reality - our lives. And what's worse, you let Wolfram and Hart buy you. Spike was right when he said that you betrayed your friends."

Angel walked out. He didn't want to listen.

She took out the tubes and the needles, ignoring Robin's protests and followed Angel. "I'm not done," she shouted. "Don't make me tie you up." He had turned into a room. Must be where Wesley was.

He lay in the bed hooked up to the machines. He didn't have Slayer strength to revive him. Angel sat on a chair next to his bed, holding his hand. He positioned himself so she couldn't see his face.

"Angel," Faith said. She wasn't yelling anymore. "Are you crying?" She took her place on the other side of Wesley's bed. "Listen, I don't know what happened to Connor. I wasn't here when the spell went down. I'm sure that you had your reasons?" She paused and sighed. "He'd do anything for you."

"Knock, knock Angelcakes," Lorne said, walking into the room. "Good to see our Slayer's up and running." He smiled at her. "I have another potion." Angel kept his face hidden from Lorne.

"But I woke on my own," Faith protested. Wesley didn't need any more complications with magic. She looked down at her bare arms. They'd removed the marks.

"No," Angel said. "You didn't." He glanced as Wesley, worry spreading across his face and taking the place of the tears.

"You had a little dose of mystical coma relief," Lorne answered. He cleared his throat. Taking a wet-looking cloth, he placed it on Wesley's forehead - the third eye. "Thank the goddess that Spike told us where you were." Wesley's body let out a soft groan. And Lorne removed the cloth. "He should wake up soon. I'll leave you two alone with him."

"I take it that Lorne doesn't know," Faith said as Lorne walked out of the room. "You really fucked up here."

"My head's killing me," Wesley muttered from his bed. "But I remember...all of it. The father will kill the son." He turned his head to look at Angel. "It looks like you fulfilled that prophecy. I understand that you did what was necessary with him. But why keep the truth from us?"

Angel froze. "I wanted," Angel sighed. "I wanted us to be a family again." He looked broken and sad. Not broody like normal, but actually sad.

Wesley cleared his throat. "But you don't get to decide how our fate turns out." Faith handed him a cup of water. "Thank you," he said. He drank a little bit from the cup. "This could have seriously put us at risk. And it did. I mean, what if Connor ever gets his memories back by accident and comes after us? We'd have no idea who he was. Not to mention the people and demons that could use this as blackmail."

"I'm sorry, Wesley," Angel said. Wesley turned his head in silence. The clock ticked on the wall. "Faith..." He sounded weak and lost.

"Sure you fucked with my mind," Faith answered him. "But it isn't me that needs reconciliation. What's between you two is between you two. As far as I'm concerned, we're five by five. You gave me a chance, and I can give you one." She squeezed Wesley's hand. "But I'm not leaving until Wes tells me to."

Wesley smiled at her. He was going to need a lot of rest. "You never gave me that chance," Wesley addressed Angel, his voice shaking. Faith watched on as Wesley's face filled with tears, and she moved nearer to the door to give them more privacy.

"I...," Angel started and stopped. "You're the last. With Cordelia gone, I need you. And I'm so sorry, Wesley. Will you take a second chance now?"

Wesley reached his hand for Angel's. "If you tell them the truth, I'll come back." The tears slowly stopped. "I'd like to rest now." And he closed his eyes.

"Come on, Angel," Faith said. She stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder. They shut the door to let Wesley have his rest.

"What are you going to do now?" Angel asked. "I bet you have plenty of interesting things to report to Giles. And things to tell Robin." Angel pointed to where Robin sat, in a chair outside the door - waiting for her.

"Going back to responsibility," Faith answered. "Growing up and being an adult." She walked to Robin and took his hand. She was hungry and figured that there was food somewhere.

"Sounds like something that we both need to do," Angel muttered as they walked away from him. Faith took a look back to see Angel reenter Wesley's room to sit with him as he slept.


End file.
